Just, Why?
I over analyze simple things, hoping for a better or worse outcome…
I look for answers, where there are none.
    Question;
If the universe in infinite, why do we find so many things… A great discovery?
When we haven’t even scratched the surface!
    Maybe…
I’m on the wrong side of the universe.
So, when will others learn that up isn’t up and down isn’t down?
     My mind is so vast.
But I am young, to an untrained eye.
I’m a writer, artist, and a poet…
I have lived and died so many times.
I’m a kid.
But I feel as if I’ve lived for thousands of years-

                                                                 So many lives!

I'm all alone
I just miss our conversations
The late night thrills
The joyous moments
Seeing your amazing smile
I just miss you a whole lot
I wish I could have you
I wish I could just hold you
I wish I just give you the world
Maybe one day, when I'm successful
Maybe we can be together then
Is it bad that I'm in love with someone that doesn't love me back?

Sitting at a bar, beautiful girl in front of me.
Im a no body not even a regular, I chat her up anyway with no confidence....
Boy friend, should have guessed, oh well talk to her anyway, make a name for myself.
Guys walk in at the end of the bar, slowly take her away from me.
I walk away with shame, what was I hoping for?
No good for anyone anyway, too beautiful for me.
With a soft smile and a black hat, as I walk away I look over my shoulder to something that could have been.
Too late, not enough umph..
Tomorrow's another day, another let down.

It's my birthday today
I wonder what fate has in store
I wonder how my day will go
I hope it goes well
Here's to another year above ground
And here's to many more

you approach the house in zebra-print pants, wet matches and ice’d driveway,
you stumble to ignite.
spark to flame to enchant the neighborhood with midnight light.
you of the timeless once-was,
of grass or great oak,
you held the family together.
you tried to scotch-tape a butterfly’s pulled-wings back on.

                 [the momentum of love.]

teen boys breakdown in vacant lots
thinking of what you were to them. they
drag girls up and down the hillside, thru holes of the old factory fence,
attempting the ritual of you.
the aluminum hum if wind and night,
of highway lights on the distance.
*** on a tomb of plastic curlings.

you appear in pixels and dark bars,
face painted clown-like.
hydros in your palm, knife in your hip.
you were that girl lost between city sprawl
& old woodwork,
old wooden chairs carved upon and passed back and forth from *** to ***
class to class.

bell.
pizza delivery boy.
grease-ring soaked box and to touch his knees.
the channel changes, and he holds his breath for years,
in the wake of you.

Bright and polite
kids. Deferential
squirrels. Leaders of
leaders. Each man
his own man
living with his mate.
The great and the small,
all, the state.
                       On the other hand,
you find yourself
no hawk
but stuck
in traffic. Lack of
spirit, spiritual identity,
not free or free
philosophically about
no freedom. Caught
no sign
of letting go.

One. Bo-Peep's
sure Woody
is her man, an answer
to the question why
be a toy? Buzz too
would do.
Two. The men at least
have missions
leading other toys
through risky situations
sprinkler weather
or just play,
cleaning schedule.

So it goes
not homosexual
not hetero.
Not defined
by circumstance
or genetic material.
Gone beyond
the creator
to an infinity
that contains
him and us and our
collective minds.
Question is
can it exist
without us?
Would it matter?
Yes, if
that **** squirrel
gets run over.

Miss Haversham has shaken
off the cobwebs and the deadly dust.
tore down the tattered curtains
moth-eaten and frayed
She’s flung open the windows
thrown away the detritus of decay
into the path of passing winds
napery tossed down to the garden.
Even the mice have run for cover
as she tears off the raggedy sheds
of stained satin and be-ribboned lace.

She stands naked in the barren room
Estella has prepared a soothing bath
perfumed rich with oils and fragrant attars
to steal the acris stench of unwashed years
coaxing the arid brittle crust away
saving the soft delicate skin beneath
viciousness, sloughed smooth
and vengeful purpose passes.

She is reborn a Botticelli Venus
standing in an open shell
long hair shining and wrapping around
her creamy skin, voluptuous
curvaceous, slippery with life
newborn yet wiser for the years
of reflection, ready to deflect
romantic nonsense and live
free and breathe again.

© M.L.Emmett

She's  beautiful  in her own way,
She  smiles  even when she's having a bad day,
She can be  delicate  but she's still   strong ,
She's not  proud ,she admits her wrong,
Words don't bring her down,
She knows noone is worth turning her smile into a frown,
She doesn't look down on others,
She feels how it would be like to be one of their mothers,
She speaks her  mind ,
She believes in it there's wisdom someone could find.
She's a  hardworker ,
And she wouldn't ever want to be a heartbreaker,

But a heart mender she would be.
She can pray..
She's a woman,a great one.